


Please, Alpha

by asarcasticwitch



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beta Peter Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breeding, Come Inflation, Derogatory Language, Dubious Consent, Endgame Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Incest, Not Beta Read, Older Man/Younger Man, Omega Stiles Stilinski, POV Third Person, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Spitroasting, Stiles Stilinski in Heat, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asarcasticwitch/pseuds/asarcasticwitch
Summary: Peter’s never been known as a good man, but lately, he’s attempted to retain the last vestiges of his morality, if only to appease the family he has left. Call him sentimental, but while the blood lust hasn’t died a death completely, it’s reduced to a contained, comfortable simmer, and that’s all thanks to his newfound urge to belong to a pack again.Naturally, he’d never admit that out loud; for all intents and purposes, he’s still dancing merrily along the tightrope of insanity. Derek and Stiles are the only two who’ve warmed to his presence considerably in the last year, and that suits him just fine.They’re the only two worth his time and effort anyway.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837195
Comments: 14
Kudos: 404
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	Please, Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the 'Creative Interpretations of Doggystyle' square on my Teen Wolf Bingo card. 
> 
> Knotting can be classed as creative, right? It's not exactly a typical occurrence in the real world, so we're just going with that. Apologies for the lack of imagination for this prompt but I was stumped and had to ask for help. This is the outcome.
> 
> There's no direct incest, but Stiles does perform sex acts with both Hale men, at the same time, so if that weirds you out, turn away now. It may get a bit intimate at times, but I can assure you that Derek and Peter do not touch. 
> 
> I've only tagged dubious consent due to the fact that Stiles is in a daze where all he knows is his need to be knotted by whoever is closest. While I'm—as the writer—imagining Stiles assuring both parties afterwards that he'd have consented to the proceedings had he the time to do so beforehand, his heat hit before he could, so his ability to consent was taken away. Take that as you will but if under-negotiated heat-sex bothers you, don't read. 
> 
> Peter is being manipulative to get the result he desires but gets a taste of his own medicine in a sorta weird fucked-up Derek way. 
> 
> My Beta is Grammarly so expect mistakes.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles writhes atop the chaos of damp cotton sheets, the fingers inside him doing nothing to quell the searing ache. “Peter, please-”

“No, sweetling,” Peter shushes, smirking wickedly when the boy sobs louder. “I can’t give you what you need.” He brushes a curling tuft of hair from obstructing the omegas glittering honey eyes, cherishing the speck of innocence gleaming through the golden rays. “But there’s someone else in this house that can.”

Peter trails his fingertips over the boy's flushed skin, the moons pastel glow reflecting enchantingly against his pale complexion. Sweat glistens, a thin layer blanketing his naked flesh, a delicious pool gathering in the dip of his clavicle. The wolf is tempted to lean forward, to swipe his tongue through the salted-sweet nectar. But he holds back, stops himself from taking what isn’t his.

Barely.

Peter’s never been known as a _good man_ , but lately, he’s attempted to retain the last vestiges of his morality, if only to appease the family he has left. Call him sentimental, but while the blood lust hasn’t died a death completely, it’s reduced to a contained, comfortable simmer, and that’s all thanks to his newfound urge to belong to a pack again.

Naturally, he’d never admit that out loud; for all intents and purposes, he’s still dancing merrily along the tightrope of insanity. Derek and Stiles are the only two who’ve warmed to his presence considerably in the last year, and that suits him just fine.

They’re the only two worth his time and effort anyway.

Plus, having gone from hardly tolerating him to intentionally seeking out his company for more than just his knowledge, makes it so much easier for Peter to push his very recent observations into action. 

They're both laying on the boy’s bed at the newly refurbished Hale house. Stiles naked as the day he was born while Peter is still fully clothed, keeping some resemblance of a barrier between them.

The wolf had been minding his own business, walking past the omegas room when that unmistakable— _utterly intoxicating_ —sickly scent assaulted his senses, kicking his animalistic instincts into overdrive. He anticipated Stiles going into heat for a few days now, having smelt the growing desperation, the boy fidgeting and squirming more than usual, subconsciously becoming more tactile as the rich aroma of slick followed him around like an insistent cloud of regret.

As much as Peter wants to aid him through it, Gods does he want to just take his throbbing cock out of his jeans and pound the restless omega into the mattress until he passes out from pleasure, lax and spent, he can’t.

Stiles isn’t destined for him.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to be completely selfish, however. He can help from the sidelines, coax the boy into making the right decisions, as it were _._

“Peter, touch me, please,” Stiles pleads, the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes falling unbidden across his precious mole-dotted face.

“I _am_ touching you, sweet boy.” Peter highlights that fact by circling the boy’s pebbled nipples, the sensitive nubs hardening gradually under the attention.

The omega whines high in his throat, his long, nimble fingers working furiously to relieve the symptoms of his frantic desire. “I need you inside me, I need-”

Peter ignores the boy’s pretty mewls—not without great restraint—and instead nuzzles close to purr low into his ear. “Derek’s listening, you know; he’s desperate for you. Your beautiful whimpers are driving his beast to distraction, but we can do better than that, can’t we, sweet boy?” He drags his lips over the curve of the omegas cheekbone, the subtle touch sending a shiver through Stiles’ sprawled out frame. “Moan for your Alpha, prove to him how much you want his cock… make him lose control.”

Peter can hear his nephew panting even through several thick layers of plaster and brick. His werewolf hearing honing in on the Alphas erratic heartbeat, his rumbling growls as he paces in his own room across the hall.

Derek's hanging on by a single frayed thread, and Peter, ever the believer in tempting fate, elects to pluck at the precarious cord with his scissor-sharp tongue. "Tell him what you want, Stiles, come on, _beg for it_."

“Please, Alpha,” Stiles gasps, voice a pitiful melody, trusting Peter's advice as his desperation rises to the point of delirium. “Fuck me.”

Peter's broad smirk is aimed into Stiles’ neck as he hears Derek grunt in frustration, his door opening, the thundering footsteps hammering across the landing before barging into the room without so much as a courteous knock.

_How rude._

Peter moves his gaze towards the man, eyes alight with smug satisfaction.

The Alpha looks positively wrecked.

“Peter, stop it,” Derek snarls, eyes flashing a fierce scarlet, fangs bared as the divine scent overwhelms him. His muscles tense, visibly flinching as if struck as the cloying smell of ripe omega envelopes him. “You’re making him delirious.”

Peter’s eyes simmer blue in an intuitive answer to his Alpha, face taking on an expression of feigned innocence. “I’m not making him _anything_ , nephew.”

He assesses the boy again, his inflamed skin evident to even an untrained eye, chest expanding wildly the longer he’s denied what he craves. Even an idiot could interpret that Peter's teasing words are inconsequential; the boy would still be a slave to his instincts even without him present.

“His body is begging to be filled, its nature... or have you forgotten all your biology lessons?”

“You’re making it worse,” Derek grits through his teeth, spittle flying from his bitten lips as he rocks on the balls of his feet, hands fisted at his sides, forcing himself to stay at a respectable distance.

“Please, please, please,” the words are nothing more than a breath as Stiles clings onto Peter's shirt, knuckles turning white as he pulls frantically at the fabric.

“Shhh, sweet boy.” He pets the side of the omegas face, not bothering to dislodge his vehement grasp, cooing soft encouragements as the boy leans into the touch. “That’s it.”

“Why don’t you help him?” Derek asks, a hint of bitter jealousy in his tone that makes Peter’s already generously healthy ego flourish. “He clearly wants you.”

“I’m a beta,” Peter reminds distractedly. “Sure, I could make it less miserable for him, he probably wouldn’t even be opposed considering how he constantly smells of arousal around me, but it still wouldn’t be anything close to what he needs.” He glances back at Derek when the man sighs, shoulders sagging as he gradually loses the fight against his own base nature. “Something _you_ can so easily give him.”

“Why are you forcing this?”

Peter scoffs with faux indignation. “I’d never force anything, Derek. I’m many things, but I’ve never been a fan of the 'Bad Touch', watching or participating. No, think of this as more of a gentle nudge... familial guidance if you will.”

“Why?”

He shoots his nephew a withering look, sighing exaggeratedly. “Can’t you just believe that I have my packs best interests at heart?”

“No.”

Peter snorts, the answer predictable, but also a _lie_. “Hm, pity,” he hums, unbothered, focus drifting back to Stiles. “Seems your Alpha doesn’t want you, little one.”

The sour scent of distress infiltrates the room, the rejection making the once addicting aroma curdle into something acidic. Both wolves visibly cringe as their primitive instincts urge them to comfort the boy.

Peter continues to caress his burning skin, soothing him with soft words, but Derek doesn’t move an inch, his control impeccable— _commendable, really._

“Peter quit it,” the Alpha grumbles, face contorting into a vexed grimace.

“Well, do you want him?” Peter retorts sharply while coaxing Stiles back from the void of hopelessness. Murmuring honeyed words into his ear until the stench of misery dissolves from the air.

Stiles’ fingers start moving again, continuing to woefully make use of the only resource he has to fill the emptiness inside him.

But it’s not enough. 

“Why do you deny yourself the pleasure of ruining him for everyone else?” Peter goads, seeing Derek’s pupils blow black with hunger as a renewed wave of ambrosial slick trickles between the boy’s creamy thighs. “Just think how good his virtuous little body will feel constricting around your knot.”

At the mention of what he desires most, Stiles crumbles even further into flaming despair. “Please, Alpha,” he cries, pulling out his soaked fingers so he can spread his legs wider, exposing his wet, swollen hole to Derek.

The Alphas lungs seem to inhale every ounce of air as he stares at the enticing display, chest heaving to such an extent Peter swears he’ll keel over. 

“It hurts, Alpha... help me, _please_.” Shining amber eyes twinkle towards the reluctant wolf, lush eyelashes fluttering wetly like wind-swept grass covered in morning dew. “I need you.”

That does it.

In a move quicker than any of them can comprehend, Derek lunges onto the bed, mouth wrapping snugly around the omegas cock, engulfing him to the root.

Stiles’ hips buck off the mattress, his head lolling back as his mouth opens on a silent scream. His body trembling violently as his Alpha pulls a bone-rattling orgasm from deep within his gut.

Peter grins, triumphant. “Such a good boy. That’s it, sweetheart, let your Alpha take care of you.”

Derek hums around his mouthful, eyelids fluttering closed as he relishes in the heady taste of the boy’s release, sucking until Stiles lets out adorable little pleas opposing the sensitivity. The Alpha pulls back, head drooping heavily against the omegas hip as he wills his shift to abate, panting wetly into the protruding bone.

Peter moves to get off the bed, his primary goal achieved, but his limbs halt impulsively as Derek jerks his head up to growl threateningly. “ _Stay there_.”

He gulps audibly, unable to ignore the command of his Alpha, barely resisting the compulsion to bare his throat to the biting authority in his tone. He settles back into his original position as Derek flips the boy onto his belly, throat suddenly cotton dry at the heavenly sight Stiles makes on his knees.

The change in position gets the fire stirring inside the omega once more, the boy scrambling to fold his legs under him to present his ass to the Alpha, his frame shivering with renewed want.

Derek blankets him, fingers curling into the omegas soft hair, yanking until his throat arches deliciously. A guttural groan leaves Stiles at the rough treatment, Derek nipping bruising kisses into the unmarred skin as he eyes Peter with a hint of danger.

The Alpha tilts the boy's head further, speaking the next words into the corner of his open mouth. “I’m going to fuck your tight little ass, breed you full, knot you ’til it catches.” He bites at Stiles’ plump bottom lip enough for a pinprick of blood to well on the surface.

Peters cock twitches of its own accord as the earthy scent of copper invades the air.

Derek smirks, “And you’re going to be a good little bitch and put that sinful mouth to use while I do.”

Peter’s lips open to protest at the implication, but the words won’t come out; one dark look from his Alpha and his jaw clamps shut with a resounding _click_.

Derek’s grip eases in the boy’s hair, his free arm snaking around the omega's chest to lift him as if he weighs nothing, hauling him until his head is situated between Peter’s legs.

Stiles doesn’t need any further explicit instructions, his desire to be worthy, to obey the dominant presence in the room, spurs him into thinking between the lines—even amidst his heat-drunk haze. Inquisitive hands smooth up Peter’s clothed thighs, unhooking his top button, the trill of his fly unzipping ringing loud in his eardrums.

Peter can’t pull his eyes away, enthralled as the boy’s deft fingers wrap around his pulsing length. White beads at the tip as Stiles gives a few experimental strokes, tongue darting out to wet his lips as if he’s dying of thirst. 

“Good boy,” Derek rasps, peppering kisses over the boy’s shoulder blades, Stiles visibly preening at the praise. “Show him how much you need both your slutty holes filled.”

The filth rolling off Derek’s tongue startles Peter; the man normally chooses to communicate with unintelligible grunts at best, but right now, with his beast clawing at the surface, it’s as if a switch has been flicked, all his words escaping his chest with a twist of vulgarity.

All Peter's initial reservations perish along with his already tenuous self-restraint as the omega licks across his leaking slit. He jolts from his musings regarding his nephew’s unholy vocabulary, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the groan leaving his mouth. The tang of blood bursts across his tongue as the velvet heat engulfs him inch by inch.

“Fuck,” he curses as Stiles swirls his tongue around him, hollowing his cheeks as if he’s aiming to suck his very soul out through his dick.

Derek chuckles darkly, lifting his torso from where he’d been sucking purple marks over each bump in the boy’s spine. He kneels behind the presenting omega, the fingers of one hand digging roughly into the boy’s hip, the other circling his rim. His eyes never stray, no doubt committing the image to memory, savoring the sight of slick dripping from the pink, fluttering hole.

Peter knows the moment Derek’s fingers plunge into the boy; the omegas moan vibrating across his skin, his throat constricting around the head of his cock as the sudden intrusion lurches him forward.

The Alpha grins devilishly at Peter’s involuntary whimper, his facade predatory as three of his digits slide in and out of the boy with fervor.

The sloppy squelch echoes through the room, lewd and carnal, like music to the wolf’s ears. The smell— _Gods the smell_ —is making Peter’s head spin, orange blossoms and vanilla permeating every single molecule of oxygen surrounding him, seeping into his bones. 

Peter’s hands clutch onto the bedding below him, anchoring himself as his hips make small aborted thrusts into the omegas hot, enthusiastic mouth. 

Stiles starts to whine around him, the fingers doing nothing to push his pleasure to the desired end, body still begging to be knotted, the only thing that will relieve his ache.

“Fuck sake, Derek,” Peter admonishes on a ragged breath. “Give it to him; he’s fucking desperate.”

Derek snarls, a wordless command to be patient. Peter rolls his eyes halfheartedly at his nephew’s lack of speech, the Alpha already showing more animal traits than man without even needing to sink his cock into the willing omega.

Thankfully, he doesn’t tease Stiles much longer, gently shushing the boy’s mournful keens at the fleeting emptiness, lining himself up as he speaks. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to make you wait anymore.”

Derek fucks into the boy with one hard thrust, hips connecting to the omegas pert ass with an obscene slap. The Alpha groans, a hoarse sound that somehow reverberates through the boy, sparking straight to Peter’s cock.

His nephew’s fangs are peeking past his lips, his claws digging into the boy’s flesh. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, quite the opposite, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Derek gives him only seconds to adjust, beginning a punishing rhythm that manages to rock the bed below them.

Peter can only imagine what it feels like, what rutting into that warm confinement would do to his senses. The mouth on his cock is incredible, but he can only imagine his ass would be otherworldly. And judging by the blissed-out expression on Derek’s face, the brutal unrestrained thrusts, he knows he’s right.

Peter closes his eyes, focusing intently on every noise and sensation; the heavy breathing, the specks of plaster crumbling onto the back of his neck as the bedframe bangs against the wall, the constriction around his cock. Derek’s beserk pounding pushes the boy closer to Peter, giving him no choice but to swallow him down to the base.

He only just makes out the noise of his Alpha tutting over the squelching, ears picking up the faintly amused lilt. “Eyes open, uncle; this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Derek’s voice is slurred through fangs, but there’s no mistaking the low menacing rumble. “You pushed this, so you’re going to watch every fucking minute of it.”

Peter’s lids fly open, vision snapping to where Derek hammers into the boy, over and over again, taunting him, the situation now so far out of his grasp he can’t confidently remember his original purpose.

He can feel that familiar tingle in his gut, that prickling burn climbing low on his spine. He’s so close to barrelling over the edge, unable to hold back as everything becomes too much, too overwhelming.

“Go on, come down his throat,” Derek demands. “Make him swallow every last drop.”

Peter threads his fingers through Stiles’ hair, holding him steady as one, two, three more bucks of his hips, and he’s convulsing, coming in long, thick spurts across the boy’s tongue. He does as his Alpha commands, holding the omega down as he milks him, eagerly swallowing everything with a contented hum.

It’s clear when Derek’s knot begins to swell, the omega’s whines getting more frequent and higher pitched as he’s stretched thin.

Peter removes his hand, the boy instantly pulling off his softening cock to cry out, to scream a mixture of both the wolves' names, singing a sweet song of pleasure as every single nerve ending lights up, pushing him deep into euphoria.

“That’s it,” Derek coos. “Open up for me, take everything your Alpha gives you.”

Stiles pants, thrashing, scratching at the bedding, begging hysterically to be filled to the brim with his Alpha’s potent seed. He wants to be bred, for his stomach to be bulging with the wolf’s release.

Biology dictates an omegas desire to be round with an Alphas pups; Stiles is no exception.

One final thrust from Derek locks them into place, unable to resist the adamant pleas any longer, throwing his head back to roar victoriously into the night. Stiles’ muscles grow taut as he paints the sheets below him, the Alpha’s call tapering off into a grunt as the boy strangles his knot.

The omega goes boneless, falling lax onto the crumpled bedding below as Derek’s orgasm washes over him with a crippling intensity, feeding the boy precisely what he craves until the sensation becomes too much to bear.

For several moments they all linger in the silence, their breaths coming in heavy pants as they bask in the afterglow.

Stiles has now passed out, his eyes closed, face relaxed in bliss. Derek bends over the serene omega, nuzzling affectionately against his sweat-slicked neck, bodies still joined for at least another half an hour or so.

Peter’s lips curl at the tenderness of the gesture, the Alpha going from spouting filth into the omegas ear to comforting him as he drifts in and out of consciousness. He tucks himself back into his jeans, hissing when his limp cock twitches valiantly in his palm, way past the point of overstimulation.

Stiles snuffles contentedly, drawing Peter’s attention back to him once he’s straightened himself out. His eyes flit between his nephew and the boy before surrendering to his impulses. He leans over slowly, giving Derek the chance to stop him, but when he doesn’t, he presses a lingering kiss to the omega's forehead, allowing himself one last indulgence before slipping off the bed.

He’s surprised that Derek says nothing—as possessive as Alphas get of what’s theirs. But he guesses as wolves with their ability to gauge emotions through their bonds; he’ll sense that Peter’s intent is nothing to cause jealousy or concern.

Peter is fond of Stiles, always has been, but they share nothing more than a casual friendship that’s been built up from the rubble of the man Peter once was, strengthening gradually over the years. Their mutual affinity for sarcasm, wit, and knowledge bonded them together as packmates long before the tendrils of his and Derek’s connection snapped back into place. 

This whole scenario won’t complicate what they’ve created, and it’s clear his nephew’s trust has developed enough that he’s confident his beta knows his place without subjecting him to Alpha posturing.

The subconscious act of faith unexpectedly makes Peter’s heart swell to the point of bursting, but he doesn’t let it show.

As he makes his way around the bed, he watches his nephew curl his arms possessively around the tranquil omega, positioning them both more comfortably on their sides, handling him as if the most precious thing in all the world.

He reaches the door, twisting slightly when his nephew calls out to him, voice even lower than a whisper. “Thank you, uncle.” The words are reluctant in their delivery, tone close to a sneer, but the intention is grateful all the same.

Peter nods in acknowledgment, saying nothing as he leaves.

“Alpha,” Stiles sighs reverently as he wakes, that one single word somehow managing to express several years of concealed love and adoration.

Peter smiles to himself as he retreats from the now-closed door, his ears only just picking up his nephew's sweet, caressing answer as he saunters towards his bedroom. “I’m here, baby, I’ll always be here.”

_Mission accomplished._

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I'd never delve into writing heat-sex, but as it turns out, I'm a big fat liar. 
> 
> This is the kind of shit I think about at four in the morning instead of sleeping; it drove me crazy until I wrote it down. No idea where it came from or what possessed me to think this scenario was acceptable but hey ho.
> 
> While all I ever write is smut, it's different to what I've posted before—there's three of them for a start. I still had to hint at a mushy ending though; it seems I'm still incapable of anything else *sighs*.
> 
> If I've missed any tags or warnings, please let me know, but I think I've covered everything necessary.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at [asarcasticwitch](http://asarcasticwitch.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
